A Dangerous Mishap
by LuckyCharms19
Summary: A simple interference mission for the Captain and Hawkeye goes wrong, leaving one severely wounded, and the other to face the wrath of a particularly deadly Black Widow. I own nothing.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hello people! Here's my attempt at an Avengers fanfic. Now it's my first one and it is movie-verse so there may be some character differences than in the comic book versions as I'm only really familiar with the film adaption right now. Getting to the comics though! **

"You know, I'm surprised you aren't taking advantage of a little time off," Fury's voice fills the training room.

Agent Clint Barton gives a short laugh and continues to beat on the punching bag in front of him, sweat pouring down his face. "With all due respect, I've been sitting on my ass for a week now and I'm starting to go a little stir crazy," comes his reply, followed by loud snap jabs against the leather.

"You had the option of joining Agent Romanoff in Berlin and you turned it down. It would have given you something to do," Fury takes a seat on the bench pressed against the wall, a manila folder in his hands.

Clint stops his actions, his hand resting on the heavy bag to cease its movement. "Tasha can handle that job on her own. She'd have been in and out of there before I would even have a chance to do anything. No sense in two of us going for a one person job."

Nick smirks slightly, his good eye peering at the man. "You wanted a challenge, is that it? Well, you're in luck Barton, something just came across my desk. I think you'll be interested in the contents."

Clint wipes his face off with a hand towel he scoops up from the floor. "Something interesting for me then?" he asks Fury, pulling off the padded gloves he wears to train.

"Something like that," Fury stands up and holds the folder out to Clint. "Word has it that some of the Italian mob are going to be meeting with the Russian mob in two days' time. Our sources believe it's a weapons deal. I want you and whoever else to infiltrate their meeting and put a stop to whatever deal they may be bargaining over. Are we clear?"

Clint takes the folder and flips through a few pages, his eyes scanning the documents in front of him. "Someone else too? Tasha won't be back that soon so is there anyone else you had in mind to join me?" he asks the boss, glancing up at him briefly.

"I'm not comfortable sending an agent that I don't feel is prepared for something like this. I was considering bringing in Stark or Rogers, depending on who you feel would suit the mission better," Fury crosses his arms over his chest while waiting for Agent Barton's answer.

Clint thinks it over. Both men were capable of completing the task, but there were pros and cons to each. Stark would succeed quickly with eliminating the problem, but it would draw attention to them too soon, especially with his desire to show off. Rogers was the better choice because of his level-headed attitude and also because he wouldn't take down half of the building like Stark's blasters would. "Let's bring the good old Captain on board for this one. Stark's probably busy building another monument to himself," Clint tucks the file under his arm and stands straight.

Fury nods. "I'll have them send for Rogers now."

As his boss leaves the training room, Clint takes the seat the Fury previously occupied. "You're gonna miss the fun Tasha," he thinks with a smirk, looking at the extensive notes left for him to go over.

Black Widow's mission was simple. Locate the target and take him out. The man had been a threat to S.H.I.E.L.D. for a short time but they didn't want to wait until he became a larger threat. He had made assassination attempts against a few agents and Fury had drawn the line. "Take him out immediately, don't drag it out," had been Natasha's orders before she left. Hearing her mission and now getting this one left Clint with a victorious feeling that he had gotten the better deal. _Looks like you drew the short end of the stick this time, Hot Sauce, _he thinks to himself as if Tasha could hear him.

Two days later, he stands in his suit next to the Captain, awaiting their drop. "I see you're happy to be back working," Steve shakes his head at Clint's eager eyes.

"What can I say Captain, vacation doesn't suit me too well," Agent Barton replies, slinging his bow across his chest.

"Drop time in thirty seconds guys!" Agent Hill's voice floods their head through their earpieces.

"Got it, Ma'am," Steve picks his shield up, the red white and blue standing out next to Hawkeye's dark uniform.

The building they were going to be infiltrating was on the outskirts of Moscow, and had been abandoned for years. It was the ideal place for a mob meeting. The two Avengers fling themselves from the plane, parachutes strapped to their backs, with Clint's being slightly uncomfortable as it presses his quiver in to his back. They land in a field a short distance from the warehouse but in the darkness of the night, their arrival goes unnoticed. The plane above them circles around to retreat back to the city to avoid suspicion.

"Let's have some fun," Clint grins, removing the parachute bag from his shoulders.

"Agent Barton, I believe you may need to re-evaluate what you consider to be fun," Steve's voice is devoid of the anticipation his fellow teammate appears to have.

They work their way closer to the building, treading carefully so as to not disturb rocks or anything else that will give away their position. The voices of the mafia members drift through the windows as they get closer, and Clint can tell that the discussion is not going well. "I'd prepare for a firefight if I were you, Captain," he murmurs to the man next to him.

With there being no glass in certain windows, it's easy enough for Hawkeye to hoist himself inside without being detected. Steve carefully hands his shield through the open space for Clint to grab before he joins Agent Barton on the inside of the warehouse. "Can you tell what they're saying?" Steve asks, his voice quiet like Clint's.

In response, Hawkeye draws an arrow and prepares his bow. "At this point, all I can say is that we won't be the ones to start this fight off," Clint points to a few of the Russian mafia men, who's hands hover behind them by their waist, clearly ready to draw their guns once ordered.

"_Can you two see anything?" _Agent Hill's voice fills their ears once more.

"Just tell the pilot to stay close by," Steve answers, not realizing that he's heading straight for a tipsy stack of crates.

"Shit!" he hisses as the crates tumble and crash to the floor.

"Well, it's safe to assume that our source was correct," Clint retorts as a machine gun slides across the floor to his feet after its crate hits the floor.

It isn't long before the bullets begin flying their way and shouts are heard coming from the men. _"Hold them steady; just keep the fighting in that warehouse. If word gets out this happened, there's going to be a lot of press to deal with," _Fury's voice cuts through their earpieces.

"Copy that," Hawkeye answers, firing an arrow directly in to the jugular of one of the Russians.

Steve picks up one of the handguns that had fallen to the floor and begins firing, hitting a few of the men while deflecting their shots with his shield. "Still happy to be at work, Agent?" he taunts, rolling across the floor to take cover.

"Always, Captain," Clint answers, firing off another few arrows.

As their targets dwindle down, Captain America leaps over another crate for some hand to hand combat. Knowing his partner has it under control, Clint thinks nothing of it and goes about his own targets. "To your left, Captain," Barton calls out, just in time for Steve to deliver a knockout blow to the head of a man.

In the corner, Steve sees one mafia member aiming his way. He holds his shield in front of him and deflects it without a second thought. What he doesn't anticipate is the grunt of pain coming from behind him as the bullet embeds itself elsewhere.

Directly in to Agent Barton's neck.

"Barton!" Steve yells, quickly taking out their remaining two targets.

He drops his shield and hurries over to where his teammate lies on the ground, blood gushing from his neck. Clint tries to speak but only manages a few gurgles of blood. "Stop talking! Just lie still!" Steve commands.

He rips off his glove and doesn't even hesitate as he reaches in to the hole in Clint's neck and pinches off the vein that had been hit by the bullet. With the loss of velocity, the bullet hadn't gone straight through, and Steve could feel the hot metal against his fingertips. "Get that plane with the medic back here now! Barton's hit!" Steve yells, pressing down on the earpiece.

Clint is still conscious but barely hanging on when the medic arrives. Steve doesn't move from his position until he's positive that they have the situation under control. He gets to his feet at Barton is loaded on to a stretcher, one medic blocking off the wound as Steve had done, and two others supporting the stretcher.

Steve looks down at his hands where Clint's blood was staining his fingers. He grits his teeth and hurries after them, boarding the plane and commanding that they get back to the airbase as soon as possible. For the entire flight, he listens and watches as the medical team works to stop as much of the blood flow as they can. He barely hears one of them approach him to say that he had aided them by acting quickly to pinch the vein.

When they land on base and Clint is rushed off, Steve slowly walks on to the tarmac where Fury greets him. "You did what you could, Captain. He's in their hands now," Fury tries to offer some words of optimism to the super soldier but Steve's downcast face doesn't even show recognition that he had heard Fury.

Hours later, Steve waits by the medical bay, sitting perfectly still. He has yet to change and the blood is now dried against his skin. He had yet to hear anything from the doctors and it was beginning to make a knot form in his stomach. "It isn't your fault you know. I'm sure you didn't intentionally force the bullet his way," Agent Hill's soft voice breaks through his thoughts.

He looks up to find her standing there, her arms crossed over her chest. "I should have thought about where the deflection would go. I should have been more careful. This was preventable," Steve shakes his head.

The woman sighs and takes a seat next to him. "Have they given you any information?" she asks.

He shakes his head and looks to his hands. "No, Ma'am. Not a word yet," he answers.

"Was he awake the whole time you were trying to help him?" she asks, peering at him curiously. She hadn't had much interaction with any of the Avengers other than Agent Barton and Agent Romanoff, but she thought she could offer some form of guidance to the Captain after seeing him walk by her with a complete look of failure on his face.

Steve forces a nod. "Yes, he was. Until the medics got there and then he passed out," he answers, still looking down. He remains stoic in his seat, no tears being shed; however, she could tell that he was guarding his emotions.

"Then he knows that you tried to help him as best as you could. That's as much as you could have offered him. I know agents that wouldn't even have tried to save someone that was shot where Agent Barton was. They would have left them for dead in order to save themselves. Don't be so hard on yourself Captain. I'm sure Agent Barton will show some gratitude for what you did for him," she gets to her feet.

"If he even survives! And if he does, he will have every right to take his anger out on me," Steve snaps before mumbling his apologies a few moments later.

Agent Hill turns to look at him and shakes her head. "I've seen Agent Barton nearly die in an explosion and laugh it off hours later. I'd be more worried about facing Agent Romanoff. I'm sure she will be less than thrilled when she returns to hear her only partner is lying in a hospital bed. I'd prepare myself for her wrath, not Agent Barton's. Take my advice Captain; rest easy knowing you did everything in your power to keep Agent Barton alive, and stay alert when Black Widow boards in a few days," with that, she leaves him to his thoughts.

Instead of making him feel better, Agent Hill had only managed to give him an additional worry. Agent Romanoff was a frightening woman when she was angered and Steve was sure he didn't want to face the brunt of that anger. He had observed the two agents when the Avengers were first gathered together and he could tell that the two relied on each other. Whenever Agent Barton's name was brought up in discussion before he was returned to them, Agent Romanoff's features visibly changed. The two were partners and that's how they functioned. To lose one would mean to lose a significant part of the other. He had even picked up on their little habits, such as when Agent Barton propped his leg up on the back of Agent Romanoff's chair at the shawarma restaurant they had visited after the fight with Loki. None of the others took notice but from his seat next to Black Widow, Steve could see the tip of Barton's boot resting on the seat next to her. It was an unspoken behavior that seemed to be second nature to them. Where one went, the other was sure to follow for backup. _Perhaps Agent Romanoff would have been a better partner for him in this than I was. Surely she wouldn't have let such a thing happen,_ this thoughts run rampant.

It isn't until a doctor comes out and informs him of the news that Steve actually gets out of his seat. "Agent Barton is in critical condition and will remain here until I see fit to release him," the older male states.

Steve has to draw his eyes away from the blood on the man's uniform. "Until he can be released? So he's going to live?" he questions.

The doctor sighs. "The bullet managed to hit a main vain in the agent's neck and did quite a bit of damage. He is unconscious, and I expect he will be for a few days at least with all of the sedatives we will be giving him to relieve the pain. That being said, yes, I believe he will survive. I am told that you acted quickly on the scene and pinched off the vain that had been ruptured. I have to say Captain, if it weren't for your quick thinking, I would be delivering a much different message to you this morning. Agent Barton's survival is thanks to you. Now, I suggest you shower and get some rest yourself. Doctor's orders, son," the man says, clapping Steve on the shoulder and turning to walk away.

Breathing a sigh of relief, the soldier does as he's told and returns to his private stateroom to shower and sleep. The fact that he had not lost another soldier on the job was enough to settle him in to a shallow slumber.

To say that his peace of mind lasts a short time would be an understatement. The following evening, the Captain is in the dining hall eating some cold dinner when Agent Hill approaches him. "Sir," she comes to a halt in front of him, her hands clasped behind her back.

"Yes Ma'am?" Steve asks, pushing his tray away from him.

"It would be my suggestion that you take shelter in your stateroom for a while," her voice holds a warning and her eyes are filled with caution.

"And why is that?" he asks, getting to his feet.

"Agent Romanoff is landing early. In ten minutes, to be precise. My apologies sir, I thought she would be away longer," she answers.

Steve sighs and wipes his hands on a napkin. "So much for a quiet evening," he mutters on his way past her.

He had been planning on returning to Barton's room in the medical bay to ensure that his teammate was alright, but decides that Hill is right and it would be safer to spend his evening out of sight.

When Natasha Romanoff's plane lands on the tarmac shortly after, a few crew members give wary looks to each other. They remember the vicious bite of the Black Widow when Barton had merely been under Loki's control. Finding out her partner's life was in danger while she was away is bound to bring back that chilling attitude of hers.

"I assume everything went as planned?" Fury questions her, treading carefully with how he breaks the news to her.

"As always, I deliver nothing else. Persuaded the target to a private location for something he couldn't refuse and the moron took the bait. Took me longer to find him than it did to go through with the plan," Natasha answers, walking past him.

"Good, perhaps you could take a few days off," he follows after her.

"I'm afraid not, Sir. Barton issued a sparring challenge after I bested him before I left and I plan on accepting. Where can I find him?" she asks, walking out of the heat and in to the base.

"I'm afraid sparring is not going to be on the agenda for Agent Barton," Nick watches her cautiously.

"If he's away on mission than I can wait until he returns. That'll give me time to fit training in before the next mission anyways," she brushes off the excuse without a second thought.

"Agent Romanoff, I believe we need to have a discussion in private," Fury tries to keep her from being exposed to the gossip around the base about what had happened.

When she enters the bridge with him behind her, he sighs. "Sir, is there any way the talk can wait? I was hoping there would be another mission to cover before it gets assigned to someone else," she crosses her arms over her chest.

"Sir, the doctor in the med bay wishes to speak with you about Agent Barton's condition," a young crew member approaches Fury.

Natasha's features instantly change in to a deadly expression. "Why is Agent Barton in the med bay?" she asks, her voice sharp.

"I believe we need to speak in private Agent Romanoff," Fury repeats himself, preparing for a storm.

"With all due respect sir, I demand to know why my partner is in the medical bay," she puts her hands on her hips in a terrifying stance.

Fury pauses and looks at her before heading to her wishes. "Agent Barton and the Captain were sent to investigate a possible threat to civilian security. A bullet meant for Rogers was reflected towards Barton and he was struck. We got him here as soon as possible for medical treatment. That's all," he explains vaguely.

Without a word, Natasha pushes past him towards the direction of the infirmary rooms. "Where's Barton?" she asks with a snap at the nearest nurse.

As she's directed towards his room, she can feel her anger bubbling. She prepares herself to lecture Clint for his carelessness but when she enters his room, she isn't expecting the sight that she sees. Her partner lays motionless against the sheets with tubes sticking out of his body in various places. A large bandage is at his neck and a bag of blood is currently being pumped in to his system. She stops and for a moment almost feels sick. It's hard for her to look at the one person she trusts with her life fighting for his own due to a mistake in the field.

She hears approaching footsteps from behind her. "Where is Rogers?" she asks, knowing that it's Fury.

"Agent, I think you need to calm down," he says, trying to avoid a brawl.

"You told me he was wounded, nothing was said about the fact that he's practically on life support. You didn't inform me that Agent Barton's wound was this severe," her voice is steady but Fury can hear the intensity behind her words.

Growling, she moves aside and exits the room, her stride heavy and filled with anger. It doesn't take long for a crew member to betray the Captain's whereabouts out of fear. So, Steve isn't surprised when Natasha bursts in to his room without knocking. "What the hell happened out there?" she yells, stepping right up to him.

"They warned me about this," he ignores her question, setting his book aside.

"Cut the shit Rogers, how could you have let that happen to Barton? Were you just trying to protect yourself out there?" she jabs a finger in to his chest.

"Agent Romanoff, I don't believe you've heard the whole story about what happened. I would be more than happy to-"he stops talking when she cuts him off.

"You're right Captain, I don't want to hear the whole story because as far as I'm concerned, my partner is lying half dead in the medical bay while the man who was supposed to have his back is standing here perfectly fine," she snaps, giving him a shove.

"I didn't mean for this to happen Agent!" Steve tries to defend himself, feeling irritated with the woman.

"Well I don't think Barton meant to be shot but look how that turned out for him! Tell me, are you that unintelligent that you didn't think the the angle that the bullet was going to ricochet off of your shield would be aimed in Hawkeye's direction?" she questions.

"You know as well as I do that in the heat of the moment you only have seconds to react. It was not my intention to aim a bullet in that direction, it just happened to be where Hawkeye had taken cover at that moment," he snaps back.

Natasha raises her fist to deliver a punch but the soldier catches her arm. She twists and manages to get land a blow on his jaw, knocking him back a few steps. Steve retaliates by shoving her away in to his dresser. "Enough!" he yells, trying to get her to calm down.

"You should be in the bed, not him!" she spits out, landing a kick to his chest.

"Both of you, that is enough!" a new voice enters the room.

Director Fury steps forward in between them to keep the fighting at bay. "Agent, I will not have you assaulting Rogers because of an unpreventable incident that occurred while you were not there. Soldiers and agents die, that's just how it is. You of all people should know that. Consider it lucky that your partner is in a bed upstairs as opposed to in a body bag."

"It could have been prevented if your super soldier had half a brain," Natasha snaps,

Steve's fists clench at his sides but he restrains himself. Agent Hill had given him a heads up about Natasha, so he shouldn't be surprised. "He would have been better off going in alone than going in with you," she barks out at him before turning on her heel to return to her fallen partner's side.

Steve sinks in to a chair and pinches the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. Being on the bad side of a master assassin was not something he wanted.

For the rest of the night, Natasha sits stiffly in the chair next to Hawkeye's bed. She doesn't move when the nurses come in to check on the patient, nor does she move when they clean him off. When it comes to that, the most she does is avert her eyes to give Clint some privacy in his unconscious state. The stillness of him bothers her. Clint has always been the more loose out of the two, making light of things when she wanted to be serious. To see him vulnerable in a hospital room hurts her. He looks so lifeless that there are a few times she touches his hand lightly, just to make sure that it's still warm.

"I'm going to kill you myself for this when you wake up Clint Barton," she threatens under her breath in the early hours of the morning.

Her eyes begin to feel heavy as the sun rises, but she makes no movement to go sleep. She forces them awake, as if her presence was the only thing keeping him alive. She feels the need to protect him while he's in this state because she hadn't been there to protect him in the first place.

When a nurse comes in after breakfast to change the bandage on his wound, Natasha forces her eyes to look at the angry red place where they had operated to remove the bullet. The skin is swollen where they had stitched him up and some blood is dried around the edges. _You should have forced him to come with you to Berlin. He would have been safe if you had,_ she scolds herself.

Natasha is so distracted with her thoughts that she doesn't realize the nurse speaking to her. "What?" she asks bluntly, not in the mood for being polite.

"I said that Agent Barton is lucky that this was all that came of being shot. If it weren't for Captain America, he would be in the morgue instead of this bed," the nurse speaks, placing medical tape around the edges of the bandage.

Natasha frowns. "What are you talking about?" she asks the woman.

"When Agent Barton was wounded, the Captain reached in to the wound and close the vein with his fingers to prevent too much blood loss. If he hadn't done that, Agent Barton would have died before they managed to get him back here."

Her words float around Natasha's head for the next few hours. With the silence of the room weighing down on her, along with the pressure of wanting Clint to wake up, Natasha fights with herself over how to feel about the situation. Staring at Clint's face, she feels a sense of loss. If he would have died, she would have had no one. He was all she had. If her partner, the man who saved her instead of killing her, were to have died, she would have resigned from S.H.I.E.L.D. without a second thought. Clint brought her to S.H.I.E.L.D. and if he wasn't there to fight alongside her, then she wanted nothing to do with the organization.

"Wake up Clint, come on," she encourages quietly, willing him to open his eyes.

A tapping at the door forces her to look away from him. Steve stands there in civilian clothes, his hands wringing nervously in front of him. "May I come in?" he asks, motioning to the chair on the other side of Clint's bed.

Natasha gives a brief nod, watching him carefully. Steve takes a seat but doesn't move it closer, sensing that she would pounce on him if he got anywhere nearer to Clint. "How is he?" he asks.

"No change," comes her short reply.

"I am sorry, you know," he apologizes to her, his sincerity showing in his face.

Natasha doesn't answer for a few moments. "They told me what you did," her voice startles him.

"About what?" he asks cautiously.

"How you stopped the vein from bleeding too much. They told me that you probably saved his life," she explains.

Steve looks at Barton in the bed and lets out a huff. "I did the damage, it was only right that I try to save him."

"Thank you," her gratitude surprises him.

He looks at her with confusion. "But I'm the reason he's here in the first place," he says.

"Oh, don't think you're on my good graces just yet. The both of you will be getting your asses kicked the minute he walks out of here. Until then, I owe you thanks for saving my partners life," she leans back in her chair.

Steve lets out a small chuckle. "I'll do my best to keep him safe next time," he promises.

"There won't be a next time until I believe that the two of you can go in to a mission alone and not get yourselves killed," her eyes are on Clint as she speaks.

"Isn't that Director Fury's call?" Steve asks.

"Captain when it comes to Barton, Fury does not question me," she brushes off his question.

The two fall in to silence as they sit beside Clint's bed. Natasha resumes her routine of touching his hand every now and then, not listening to the beeping of the heart monitor. Steve watches from his place, observing just how important it was that he had made the call to try and save Barton. If he had let Hawkeye die, the Avengers wouldn't have only lost their marksman, but they would have lost their fiery assassin as well. For you can't separate the Black Widow from Hawkeye without losing both of them.

**A/N: Depending on how well this one goes over, I'll do a follow up one-shot about what happens when Hawkeye is released from the medical bay.**

**And a quick clarification because a friend of mine already hounded me about it: it is possible to save someone's life by pinching off a severed vein. There have been hockey players that have had their jugulars severed by skates and they have survived because the team medics reach in with their fingers and clamp down to slow the blood so it doesn't gush out. **

**Please, feel free to leave a review but I must ask for no flames. **


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I'm extremely happy that you guys enjoyed the story. I tried to reply to some of the reviews but for some reason it isn't allowing me to so just know that I read each one and thank you all for the support! As promised, here is the follow up to when Clint wakes up.**

Natasha doesn't jump, but looks up in surprise as an apple lands in her lap. Steve stands in the doorway, clearly having tossed it to her. He takes a bite out of his own granny apple as he leans against the doorframe. "Figured you could use some food, since you're so keen to forget to take care of yourself," he states around the bite he took.

She rolls her eyes and picks up the apple, placing it on Clint's bedside table. "I haven't eaten because I'm not hungry. I merely decided that I want to be here when Agent Barton wakes up," she replies with a brisk tone.

"You want to be the first thing he sees, is that it?" Steve gets the wrong idea and mistakenly asks her with a smile.

Natasha turns with a stern expression and crosses her arms over her chest. "It has nothing to do with wanting to be the first person he sees Captain, it has to do with me smacking some sense in to him the minute his eyes open," she corrects.

Steve looks at Clint in the bed, still unconscious but taking on a healthier skin colour. "Don't you think the poor guy has suffered enough?" he asks, tossing out the apple core in the small trash bin by his foot.

"He's been the one under heavy sedation while I've sat here waiting for him to wake up. I think the past few days have been more dreary for me than for him," she retorts, her head turning to resume watch over her partner.

"You're worried about him," Steve muses, noting the flicker of concern that she doesn't realize slips in to her gaze.

"Worry is an emotion I haven't felt in years Captain. If anyone is going to kill Clint Barton, it will be me, not some freak accident. And I want to make that perfectly clear to him. My debt has yet to be paid," her voice is calm but Steve still fights back a shiver at the menacing tone.

"Debt?" his eyebrows furrow in confusion.

"That is a story for another day. Now, aside from telling me what you think is going on with me, was there something else you needed?" she asks, really just wanting to be left alone to monitor Clint in peace.

"No Ma'am just thought you'd be hungry. And, we do need our marksman so please don't hurt him too bad. I'll be in the training room if anyone needs me," he gives her a quick two finger salute and walks out the door, hands clasped behind his back.

Natasha watches him for a brief moment before her stomach rumbles uncontrollably. Now that he was out of sight, her hand shoots out and picks up the apple, biting a gaping piece off the side. "Stupid soldier," she mutters, annoyed that he could tell she needed nourishment.

She wasn't about to admit that a sickly feeling had been eating away at her since she discovered Clint's condition. Something about seeing him lying useless in a bed hurt her more than she would care to say. Clint was the one that had always appeared as an unstoppable force in a way. He could kill a man with an arrow from a distance that shouldn't be possible. He had always offered her backup, even when she fought against it, because he wanted to make sure that his partner made it back to base after every mission. She had done everything in her power to try and wipe the red from her ledger but nothing she did felt good enough to consider themselves even. Clint had told her numerous occasions that they were beyond even and that if anything, he was now indebted to her, but she remained stubborn on the matter. The least she could do now is keep a close watch on him to ensure that the doctors don't disturb him with their poking and prodding.

A few hours later, the noise from the heart monitor begins speeding up, forcing her eyes to dart to him instead of the book in her lap. She feels her own heart begin to race as she sees his eyes wide open in panic, peering around the room. The feeding tube down his throat prevents him from being able to breathe comfortably and he begins to choke. "Doctor!" Natasha yells, getting to her feet. The book falls to the floor with a thud, which startles him even more.

"Clint, calm down! It's Tasha, I need you to relax okay?" she presses her hands on his arms to hold him to the bed. In his frightened state, she completely forgets the anger that she was planning on scolding him with.

She can tell that he doesn't understand where he is. She figures that the disorientation from the sedatives probably reminds him of what it was like to come to his senses after Loki's mind control. Seconds later, she is joined by two of the medical staff members that try to soothe their anxious patient. "Agent Barton, you are in the medical wing on base. We're going to need you to calm down or you're going to cause the feeding tube to agitate your throat. I don't want to sedate you again now that you've just woken up. Do you understand?" the doctor tries to flash a penlight in Clint's eyes but he can't get him to look straight ahead.

The wounded agent's gaze locks on his partner and she is instantly reminded of the dazed look of confusion he gave her after she jostled him back to reality during their fight. His hand locates her and grips tightly, practically cutting off the circulation. "Clint, you're going to be okay," she repeats the words she had told him what seems like so long ago.

"Agent Romanoff if you can just stay by him while I remove the feeding tube that would be a great help. I need someone to keep his attention," the doctor puts on a pair of gloves and steps forward while the nurse holds Barton's legs down so he doesn't kick out.

Clint shows his discomfort as the feeding tube is slowly pulled from his mouth, gagging and sputtering until the doctor completely dislodges it. "T-tash…a..." his voice is croaky and hoarse, so unlike his usual sound.

"Clint don't speak, you'll make it worse. I'll get you water, just stay still and be quiet," she orders him.

Once she's positive that he'll behave while the doctor inspects him, she steps away to the table by the door, pouring a glass of water for him. She waits there until the doctor approaches, then she puts her arm out to stop him from leaving. "What's the verdict?" she asks, her voice taking on her professional tone.

The man casts a look back at his patient, whose eyes are screwed shut as the dull throb of the pain becomes more intense as the medication wears off. "He's worked himself in to a panic but he should be alright. Just keep him calm and try your best to stop him from talking. The vocal cords took a little bit of damage from the bullet and the feeding tube will have agitated his throat so I want to keep him quiet in order for the damage to heal quickly. Can you make sure he's silent?" he asks her, knowing that after the amount of days she's been there, she isn't likely to leave now.

Natasha gives him a brief nod and then smirks lightly as the doctor leaves with the nurse. "No talking huh? That'll make this much easier," she mutters under her breath.

She approaches the bed with a blank face. Her hands go to her hips. Her eyes get a flicker of something that Clint doesn't want to see right now. Even with the distraction of pain, he recognizes that flicker and he holds his hands up in surrender. "Tash-" he tries to croak out before she holds up a finger to silence him.

"Doctor's orders Barton, no talking. Which means I want you to sit there, shut up and listen closely. Understood?" she asks, lowering her hand and stepping closer.

Clint shuts his mouth and breathes deeply, awaiting the storm he knows is about to wash over him. "Do you know what I've been doing for the past few days Clint? I've been sitting here. Right in this chair next to your bed, waiting for you to wake up. Why have I been sitting here Clint?" she asks.

He opens his mouth to speak. "It was rhetorical, I said shut up and don't speak," she interrupts him before he can make a sound.

"I've been sitting here because you went and nearly got yourself killed because you and Rogers got cocky and were being careless. You were the one who trained me to always keep my eyes open and then you go and neglect your own rule. How could you be so stupid, Clint?" she hisses, marching up to his bed so she's staring down at him intensely.

"I thought you said you'd be careful? You-you promised me you would be after what Loki did to you!" she hates that she chokes during the sentence. She doesn't know when tears began to sting at her eyes but she straightens up and looks away from him.

She feels his hand tentatively reach for hers and she growls, yanking her hand out of reach. The two rarely resorted to physical contact as a form of comfort and in her rage with him, she certainly didn't want it now. Particularly because it would make her anger disappear. "No! You can't expect me to calm down Clint! Remember what happened in Georgia? When I got stabbed and you thought I was going to die? Remember how we promised each other that we wouldn't ever leave each other because we're all we have? You almost broke that promise, Clint. And I'm not ready to just let that go. I've already spoken to Fury. You're on desk work until _I'm _sure that you won't be an idiot in the field again. I refuse to lose my partner. I'll die first," she doesn't realize that her fists have balled up at her sides.

"Natasha?" a new voice enters the room.

She whips around and Steve is standing there, looking like a bull fighter trying to calm the animal. "Maybe you should take a break. I'll stay with him. Just get some sleep or something. It's okay," he tries to reason with her.

He grabs a tissue from the Kleenex box on the bedside table and hands it across to her. She takes it unwillingly, confused as to why he's giving it to her. Without a word, he mimes dabbing at his eyes and it's then she realizes that she had begun to cry during her rant. Paling at the fact she had shown emotion in front of not only Clint, but Steve as well, she storms from the room after delivering a swift kick angrily to Clint's bed, jostling him uncomfortably and making him groan.

Going to the only place she knows she can calm down, she retreats to the training room with her eyes to the floor. In the women's change rooms, she pulls on S.H.I.E.L.D. standard training clothes- which are essentially just a tank top and jogging pants- and sets up a dummy to work with.

Her fighting is all over the place. Punches she'd normally land hard enough to break a bone were glancing off the dummy. She grits her teeth and tries to focus, kicking it hard enough to knock it over. The only sounds in the room are her fists and feet hitting leather, and the growls and grunts she makes while she's fighting.

She doesn't notice that Steve followed her and is watching from the shadows by the corner. His arms are folded across his chest and he feels sympathy for both assassins. Clint had pointed after Natasha when she fled the room, ordering Steve to go and check on her. Both are more concerned for the other, but they've been trained to be emotionless.

"He's going to be alright, you know," Captain America's deep voice stops her in her tracks.

She pants and stops fighting, peering in his direction. "I don't believe I asked for company, Captain," she hisses in response, furious at being spied on in her frazzled, distracted mood.

"You know it isn't bad to show feelings every now and then. Even soldiers cry," he walks a few more steps forward but keeps distance between them.

"I'm not a soldier, Rogers! I've spent most of my life killing people that I'm told to. Spies aren't supposed to cry. And I don't know if you've noticed but up until recently, I've been very good at keeping myself in check!" she snaps.

"Then maybe it's time that you stop being a spy and start being a human being. You're a smart woman Natasha; you know why you're upset. Agent Barton is a close friend to you; it's understandable that you're upset over this. But you can't it out on him for something that he couldn't prevent," Steve tucks his hands in his pockets.

"You have no idea about the history Clint and I have together!" she yells, her voice echoing off of the walls.

"You're right, I don't but right now my teammate is lying in a hospital bed needing his best friend right now, while she walked out on him because she can't handle emotions!" the Captain yells in return, not backing down anymore.

She gives him a shove but he doesn't fight back. "This isn't going to be a repeat of the other day Natasha," he says, dodging another blow with a quick turn of his body.

She backs him into a corner, throwing punches as quickly as she can. "You can fight me all day but it isn't going to change the fact that he got shot," he says, grabbing her arms to stop her.

She tries to wiggle her arms free but the soldier is strong and holds her in place. "You said that you two were partners and you swore to protect each other. Why aren't you protecting him now?" he asks her as she breathes heavily.

"Protect him from what?" she snaps in his face.

"From being alone right now!" he pushes her away from him.

Steve shakes his head as he walks away. "You're not alone anymore Agent Romanoff, maybe it's time you realize that," he calls back to her.

The door slams shut behind him and she presses her back against the wall, sliding down so she's sitting. She doesn't want to listen to him. She squeezes her eyes shut and grabs fistfuls of hair. Flashes of her time with Clint pass in her head. Budapest. Georgia. London. Spain. The final battle with Loki. All of her memories of them consisted of the two protecting each other. The damn soldier was right, as much as she hated to admit it.

"Son of a bitch," she mutters, pushing herself to her feet to head to the shower so she can wash the sweat and salty tears from her skin.

She can tell that Clint is still wary of her when she re-enters his room. His eyes lock on hers from the moment she appears outside of his door until she comes to stand next to his bed. The two have a stare down, one quiet because he can't speak, and the other quiet because she doesn't know what to say. "You know why I'm upset Clint," she says bluntly, her voice no longer angry.

He tries to nod but it only aggravates the wound and he winces. "Don't move. If you have a yes or no response, just blink. Once for yes, twice for no. So, you know why I'm upset?" she repeats.

He blinks once. Not wanting to be overheard for the rest of the conversation, she goes over to the door and shuts it. "Then you know why I acted the way I did," she turns to look at him, seeing him blink once more.

She takes a seat on one side of his bed, fighting with herself over what to do. Steve made it sound so easy to let go but she just didn't know how to. She settles for awkwardly holding Clint's hand but she lets go when she feels something against his palm. The folded slip of paper drops to the bed and he nudges it closer to her hand. She glances at him before picking up the note and opening it. In his familiar messy scrawl, the words on the page make a small smile appear on her face.

_They can't make me leave you that easily, Tasha_.

She looks away for a moment, pocketing the piece of paper. She should have known that he wouldn't take her ranting personally. He had always let her vent her anger and then act like she hadn't yelled. "That's good Agent Barton, because I'm not ready to give up my partner just yet."

Clint cracks a thin smile, trying not to stretch any skin too much. He grabs her hand again and feels his eyes getting droopy, the new bag of morphine beginning to take effect. She stays there while he sleeps, holding his hand and finally feeling herself relaxing slightly for the first time in days. Although, she does shoot a glare and her middle finger in Steve's direction when he appears in the window by the door with a smug expression.

For the duration of the week, the Black Widow and Captain America take turns watching over the fallen Hawk, helping him eat and drink, and just keeping him company so he doesn't get too stir crazy. By the time he is released, he is able to talk in small durations, still exercising caution so he doesn't completely ruin his vocal cords. However, by the tenth day out of the infirmary Clint finds himself getting anxious when Natasha still refuses to allow him to train or do anything she deems too strenuous for his neck.

"Getting bored," his voice is hoarse as he speaks in an exasperated tone.

"Are you? Good, then you can work on these for me," she drops another stack of files on his desk on her way past him.

"Not what I meant," he frowns, poking at the stack of manila folders.

"No complaints Barton, you heard the doctor," she falls in to her own chair, overviewing a new case.

"Doctor cleared me for archery practice two days ago," he argues, fingers itching at the bandage on his neck.

"Sorry but I haven't given you the okay yet, which is the more important medical clearance," she retorts dryly.

He rolls his eyes and gets to his feet, pushing his chair back and leaving the room. "Work isn't done!" she calls after him without looking up.

"Get Wonder Boy to do it!" he yells back, keeping his face forward as he walks away.

Steve looks around the room, noting that it was only the three of them occupying the space. "Wonder Boy? What the hell did I do?" he asks, frowning at Natasha.

"Ignore him, I'll deal with it," she sighs, dropping her pen and getting to her feet.

She finds him two floors up, staring out of a large bay window. "What's the problem Clint?" she asks, crossing her arms as she joins him.

"I'm not a child Natasha; in fact I've been at this a lot longer than you. I don't appreciate being treated like a child," he frowns, clearing his throat slightly.

"I'm not treating you like a child, I'm making you suffer the consequences of being shot. If I remember correctly, you were the one that refused to even let me train a month after I had been released from the med bay," she retaliates. "I had to sneak in training sessions while you were asleep."

He huffs and turns away from her, leaning against the glass. "It's not like we're keeping you here forever you know. It's just until we're positive that your actions won't be harmful to yourself while you're fighting," she tries to reason with him, nudging his elbow as she comes up next to him.

"How am I supposed to work on my aim?" he asks, looking at her with an un-amused face.

"I suggest flicking small paper triangles through Rogers' fingers while he pretends to be football goal posts," she replies sarcastically with a small smirk.

"Very funny. I'm going crazy being cooped up," he stops speaking for a second to cough. "At least let me do something other than paperwork Tasha," it isn't often that Hawkeye pleads with the Black Widow, but being confined to desk work was driving him crazy.

Her expression changes and she moves a bit closer. "I have something for you that'll keep you busy," she says, her voice much softer.

Clint looks down at her, his thoughts changing. "Tasha?" he asks, watching as she retracts a key from her pocket.

She dangles it at eye level for him before dropping it in his hand. "I think you'll find that this will lead to hours of being occupied," she pats his cheek tauntingly.

He raises an eyebrow and a confused look flashes across his face. "Tasha, I'm flattered but don't you think we should discuss something like that first? I mean, we do work together and it may complicate things," he's unsure of the sudden change in where the conversation was going.

She snorts and turns away, walking back towards the door. "If you aren't fit for combat, you sure as hell aren't fit enough to handle _that _with me. That's a key to my gun locker, not my room. My pistols and rifles need to be cleaned so make good use of your time and get to that. I have work to do on my next case and you're my bitch until Fury and I decide you're okay to train again," she throws a grin over her shoulder at him, stalking out of the room.

He glares at her as she retreats and he slumps down on one of the nearby couches. Clint drops the key on the coffee table and props his feet up, crossing his arms over his chest as he leans his head back against the couch. "She's so getting her ass kicked when I'm cleared to fight," he mutters, closing his eyes to rest.

**A/N: End of this story folks! Thanks again for the support! I'll be writing more Avengers fics when I think of some good plot ideas. I'll mainly be focusing on Black Widow and/or Hawkeye because those two are my favourites. **

**I do take prompts so if anyone has any ideas about what they would like to see, feel free to leave it in a review and I will do my best to make a story to fit what you want. **


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